


real

by myfandomruinedmylife



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Abusive Parents, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Coming of Age, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Growing Up Together, Help, I Made Myself Cry, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Iwaizumi Hajime Is So Done, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Angst, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru Fluff, Like Heavy Angst, M/M, No Smut, Pining Oikawa Tooru, Practice Kissing, Self-Worth Issues, Sleepovers, Surprise Kissing, These poor boys, like from ages thirteen to eighteen it's wild, on both ends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 05:10:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myfandomruinedmylife/pseuds/myfandomruinedmylife
Summary: Oikawa hated her.He hated her because she was pretty and intelligent—a beautiful hurricane—and made Iwaizumi laugh more than he ever did. He hated her because Iwa-chan had assured him that no, he didn’t want to date her, and he hated her because as soon as she confessed to him, Oikawa was swept up in the dust of their new relationship.He hated her because she loved Iwaizumi, too.+++or: in which oikawa is thirteen and learns what love is





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate myself too

“You know I’m in love with you, right?” He asked Iwaizumi one day, bony knees knocking against his chest as the thirteen-year-old’s amber eyes flicked up to bore into deep obsidian.

Iwaizumi frowned, glancing up from the worn volleyball shoes he was focused on lacing together. “Don’t say stupid stuff like that, shittykawa.”

Oikawa Tooru tilted his head, watching his best friend push himself to his feet and cross his arms. He could feel his best friend’s headboard pressing against his back as he tightened his grip on Iwa-chan’s bedsheets. “What do you mean?”

Iwaizumi hesitated, stepping closer if only to scoop up the volleyball at Oikawa’s feet. Finally, he shrugged, passing it from hand to hand. “It’s weird; of course you’re not.” Another pause. He jerked his head towards his chipping bedroom door. “Are you coming? I want to play.”

The brunet furrowed his eyebrows, but uncurled his knees from his chest and stood to follow nonetheless. He’d spent the night and they’d shared a bed—waking up to Iwa-chan hitting him with his favorite pillow had almost become their new normal. “Why is it weird? I love you.”

“Don’t—” Iwaizumi didn’t look back, stepping into the hallway connecting his bedroom to the family room. “Don’t say that.”

Oikawa frowned, wringing his hands into the hem of his shirt. He studied his friend’s back as they walked, passing big family pictures of tan skin and dark hair and toothless smiles. His mom was only in one of them, at the very end of the hall. 

That was the only picture Iwa-chan ever cared to glance at, Oikawa noticed. The rest of the frames were filled with too-tight grips on shoulders and forced smiles and concealer a shade too light on Hajime’s skin to cover the bruises.

Iwaizumi Hajime was strong; stronger than Oikawa, even at such a young age. It bothered Tooru a bit; the fact that Iwa-chan could protect him.  _ He  _ wasn’t the one that needed protecting.

He liked Iwaizumi, he thought.

He liked looking at the other boy’s dimples when he smiled before he could stop himself or the moles on his back when they were changing into their pajamas. He liked listening to his sigh when Oikawa knocked on his bedroom window at three in the morning, shivering in the chilly nighttime air. He liked listening to him talk, even when he was teasing or insulting him. 

He  _ loved _ Iwaizumi.

He loved the way they could read each other in and out, he loved the way Iwaizumi never complained when Oikawa cuddled up to him, he loved the way he suggested dumb alien movie marathons to cheer Oikawa up when he was having a bad day. He loved shielding him from danger as best as he could; tucking his head to the crook of his neck as he cried and hugging all the tears away.

Sometimes he wished it could be easier.

“Hey, Iwa-chan,” he tried when he stepped onto Iwaizumi’s front porch, sliding the screen door shut behind him. Hajime glanced up, eyes cautious as he spun the volleyball between his fingers, before tossing it over to Oikawa. “What?”

The thirteen-year-old’s eyes locked onto the oncoming ball, hands raising above him as he easily set it over to his friend. The ravenet bumped it back while Oikawa hopped onto the grass, dewy tips wetting his bare shins. He caught the ball on its return, frowning down at the object in his hands. “Do you think I’ll ever meet someone who’ll be in love with me like I’m in love with you?”

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi’s voice held a hard edge to it, but when Oikawa tilted his gaze up to meet his, unflinching at the use of his given name, the shorter boy sighed. “You’re not in love with me, or whatever.” He sniffed. “You might  _ love  _ me, which is fine, I guess. But boys don’t just casually say they’re in love with each other, okay? Can you just drop it?”

Oikawa had heard his parents say they loved each other in passing, pressing empty kisses to cheeks and distractedly pushing past their son on their way outside for a quick smoke. His mother had told him a few times—when you’re in love with someone, you’d do almost anything for them.

So, if Iwaizumi didn’t want to hear it, Oikawa would stay quiet. Because, at the end of the day, after thirteen years of friendship, he was in love with him.

+++

He was fourteen when he realized how he felt about Iwaizumi was different than how he was supposed to. 

He didn’t think much of it when he wanted to hold his hand or nuzzle their noses together or kiss his forehead—he never paid it much attention until his mother sat him down over dinner and asked if there were any girls he liked. Oikawa tilted his head and told her not really, no, and she fixed him with a cautious stare and asked him why.

Later that week, Oikawa had gone over to Iwaizumi’s after volleyball tryouts for their high school team and repeated his mother’s words; asked if there were any girls he liked. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve talked about this stuff, Iwa-chan,” he had teased, lips lifting up when Iwa-chan clicked his tongue and fixed him with a glare. “Since when are you so interested?”

Oikawa tilted his head, folding his chin in his hands and shifting so he was more comfortably laying on Iwaizumi’s bed. His eyes tracked how Iwa-chan coughed uncomfortably when the silence stretched too long, the faint red dusting his cheeks. He smiled again, but his eyebrows furrowed. “So you do like someone.”

“Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi snapped instantly, scowling down at his best friend. Oikawa mock-gasped, ignoring the churning of his stomach and instead focused on keeping that grin twitching his lips up.  _ “Iwa-chan~”  _ he tried. “Tell me~”

“You don’t ever shut up, do you?” The tan boy growled. He picked up the game controller, fiddling with it for a second before unpausing the screen in front of them. Oikawa scrambled towards his remote with a yelp, determined not to lose and whining about how Iwa-chan had cheated. Neither of them really spoke in the minutes leading after that. 

And then Iwaizumi Hajime drew in a slow breath, catching Oikawa’s attention. “It’s not like she’d ever like me back, you know.”

Amber eyes cast warily towards deep obsidian, and Oikawa tilted his head. Iwaizumi had still refused to look at him.

“Do you want to date her?”

After a beat of silence Iwaizumi hummed, watching his character steer past the finish line. And then the game was paused again and he was falling back down next to his best friend, pressing against him so they were shoulder to shoulder. Oikawa held his breath.

“Nah,” Iwaizumi decided at last, glancing over to where his best friend lay to his right. Obsidian eyes locked onto amber. “I don’t wanna date her. I have more important things I want to spend my time with.”

“Like what, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi pursed his lips, “dumbass.”

Oikawa squawked, sitting up. “What did I do!?” 

Iwaizumi didn’t move to follow, but his lips did twitch up in that lopsided smile Tooru adored. “Volleyball, for one,” he cleared his throat. “And you.” Another pause. “I guess.”

“Iwa-chan, so mean!”

+++

Her name was Usui Miyako, and Oikawa hated her.

He hated her because she was pretty and intelligent—a beautiful hurricane—and made Iwaizumi laugh more than he ever did. He hated her because Iwa-chan had assured him that no, he didn’t want to date her, and he hated her because as soon as she confessed to him, Oikawa was swept up in the dust of their new relationship.

He hated her because she loved Iwaizumi, too.

+++

Iwaizumi Hajime had been murmuring to himself as he did his homework for the past twenty minutes, and Oikawa was going to throw his textbook at him if he didn’t stop soon.

It had been Tooru’s idea to have a sleepover the day before Exams, because they were fifteen now and they were responsible enough to study together without goofing off (that’s what he told his mom, at least).

Iwaizumi had laughed when he’d repeated his thought process back to him, and Oikawa had stared at his dimples until he’d stopped and stepped inside his house like he lived there.

Oikawa’s mom had greeted his friend with a warm smile, teasing him about his girlfriend and asking him when she would get to meet her, like she was  _ his  _ mother and not Oikawa’s. When she turned back to Tooru and asked him where  _ his  _ girlfriend was, teasing tone of voice a bit harder than it had just been when she was talking to his best friend, Oikawa wondered if maybe she would have preferred it to be that way.

And then Iwaizumi had taken him by the wrist, dragging him past her and towards the safety of his bedroom. Oikawa’s mother had watched them with tight lips.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa prompted an hour later, poking him in the side to get his attention. Iwaizumi flinched, mumbles stopping completely when he glanced down to where Oikawa was splayed out on the floor beneath his chair, textbook abandoned at his side. Tooru raised an eyebrow. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Shut up, idiot,” Iwaizumi kicked him lightly, turning back to his work and rubbing the crease in his eyebrows. Oikawa frowned, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Iwaizumi.”

Cautiously, Hajime’s eyes flicked back to his face, lips pursed. Oikawa tugged on his sleeve like a child, although his voice dripped with sincerity. “What’s wrong?”

Iwaizumi sighed, never one to keep secrets for long. “I think Miyako wants to kiss soon.”

_ Miyako. _

Oikawa ignored the churning in his stomach and pushed himself up so he was sitting criss-cross. “What’s the problem? You’ve been dating for four months; naturally Usui-chan would want to kiss her boyfriend. I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t left you already.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “She must like you a lot.”

Iwaizumi groaned, and Oikawa hated how he didn’t deny it. “I know—I don’t want to let her down, you know? But I just…”

Silence stretched between them, and Oikawa didn’t know how to fill it. He didn’t like this uncomfortable gnawing at his chest; he just wanted to stay up until five am watching cartoons with Iwa-chan in his underwear.

“I’m scared I’m gonna mess it up.” Iwaizumi finally admitted, sounding almost ashamed. He wouldn’t look at Oikawa even though he knew he could read every twitch in his body by now. He was probably scared his best friend would make fun of him.

“Do you want to practice?”

Hajime faltered, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

Oikawa shifted, pushing down the overwhelming urge to whine in embarrassment.  _ That hadn’t been what he wanted to say. _ He’d messed up—he’d messed it all up. Iwa-chan didn’t move, only stared down at his childhood friend cautiously. Oikawa cleared his throat; he wanted to drag his nails down his arms, he wanted to chase away the anxiety clawing at his chest and he wanted to hide away for as long as he could.

Instead, he shot Iwaizumi a practiced smile, folding his hands in his lap. “You want to impress her, right? You can only do that if you’re good at kissing, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi wrinkled his nose. “With  _ you?  _ No way.”

“It wouldn’t mean anything,” Oikawa scoffed.  _ It wouldn’t mean anything.  _ “See if you can shove your head any further up your ass, Iwa-chan. I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart.”

That cheshire grin faltered when Iwaizumi paused. It was almost like he was considering it.

+++

Hajime’s lips were softer than he ever thought they would be.

He never expected this—never in his life did he think he would be sitting on his bed at the ripe age of fifteen, fingertips brushing Iwaizumi’s jaw as their mouths molded together softly.

It was mugs of hot cocoa in rich winter afternoons; it was fireworks and dazzling explosions echoing across the water for miles; it was the sounds of crackling fire—of burning hot ash.

Because, at the end of the day, he never expected Iwa-chan, despite his lack of experience, to be such a  _ damn  _ good kisser.

Even if it wasn't real.

He pulled back occasionally—Iwa-chan always pulled back first—and asked if he was doing okay. Oikawa had clicked his tongue, murmuring something about moving his hands more before tugging him back in by the nape of his neck, fingers curling into his hair.

And his hands—God, his hands. They were rough with callouses but also soft, gentle to the touch, and Oikawa sighed into his mouth and pressed himself closer. His eyes snapped open when Iwaizumi tugged him forward by the waist, pulling him in so he was straddling his lap. Oikawa enjoyed the leverage while he had it, cupping Iwaizumi’s jaw tenderly and tilting his head.

He didn’t think he’d ever felt his heart beat this fast in his life, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted it to slow. Kissing Iwaizumi was like a drug; it kept his adrenaline pumping and it was so,  _ so  _ good. 

Carefully, just as Oikawa suggested, Iwaizumi’s hands grazed up his back, thumbing under the hem of his pajama shirt and brushing bare skin underneath. Tooru shivered, hands reaching back to tangle in Hajime’s hair as those strong arms wrapped around his waist, supporting him and holding him close. 

Oikawa moaned into his mouth before he could stop himself, and only when Iwaizumi stiffened under him did he feel his heart drop to his stomach.

A knock on his bedroom door an instant later was all it took for them to separate like water and vinegar, Oikawa scrambling back like Iwaizumi had burned him while his mother stuck her head inside the now open doorway. Oikawa didn’t face her, a hand over his mouth as his lips throbbed and his face burned. 

Hajime was more composed, politely declining when she offered water and candy. Oikawa’s mother paused behind him, and Tooru coughed slightly at the scent of cigarette smoke clinging to her dress-shirt. The room was buzzing with potential energy, but it all leaked out of Oikawa in a half-choked breath when she nodded once and left, closing the door behind her.

Iwaizumi watched him cautiously, drawing his knees to his chest. His lips were swollen and red, hair mussed, much like Oikawa probably was; Tooru’s pajamas he’d borrowed hugging him just right—hugging him in ways Oikawa  _ hated  _ he even noticed.

They didn’t mention that night again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you sm for reading the first part! any and all kudos and comments are highly appreciated and very motivating


	2. Chapter 2

The sick chill of the gym floor bled into his limbs; choking him with gasping breaths and aching joints—keeping him pinned down.

His fingers itched towards his phone, but the choking breath of air he forced into his lungs gave him pause. All he could feel was the burning; crackling up his knee and biting at him while he trembled. It was his own fault; staying late to practice and waving off Mattsun and Makki’s concerns when they questioned him.

Iwaizumi hadn’t shown up that day.

He hadn’t shown up and he never even sent a text in lieu of explanation. Oikawa’s game had been off all practice; his serves were half-assed and his technique was clumsy and off-kilter. Worry ate at his brain at first, but worry washed into anger when Usui Miyako pulled open the gym doors. 

Oikawa watched the way her long brown hair bounced as she talked, observed the way her lip gloss was smudged on the right corner and how she self-consciously tugged at the collar of her uniform (of course, Oikawa caught the dark bruise on her shoulder before she easily covered it). He watched the way she giggled as she informed them she was sorry for interrupting practice and that Hajime was a bit held up and wouldn’t be coming in today.

He watched the way his  _ teammates  _ made suggestive sounds under their breaths, hiding muffled laughter and jests at each other behind their hands. He watched the way the third-years, his  _ respected  _ upperclassmen, thanked Usui-chan for informing them before praising Iwaizumi for stepping up his game as though he could hear them.

Nobody even noticed as Oikawa Tooru pushed his way out of the gym, down the hall of the vacant school building and into the boy’s bathroom. And there he stood, bracing himself against the sink and staring down into the drain below him. Anxiety tore through his chest, trembling down to his fingertips as the world weighed down onto his shoulders. 

It was as if he’d just lost his best friend. Maybe he had. Oikawa couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t focus—was this the end? A lifetime of friendship, and he lost Iwaizumi Hajime over a girl? Oikawa Tooru’s world swayed under him because Iwa-chan may be a thickheaded dumbass, but he would  _ never  _ miss practice. 

Not for anything.

Oikawa stared into his reflection—burning amber eyes—as he focused on fighting back bile and wondering where he went wrong. 

+++

So, yeah. He hurt his knee. He tore his knee? His knee was screaming. His knee was screaming and it was all his fault. That’s all he knew.

Sixteen years old and fighting back a sob, alone on the biting gym floor, his trembling fingers pulled his phone protectively to his chest as he dialed the only number he knew by heart.

Iwaizumi picked up on the fifth ring.

+++

“You know I’m in love with you, right?” Oikawa murmured through gasps as he tightened his hold around his best friend.

Iwaizumi didn’t look at him, but his lips were tight and perhaps the unspoken words hanging in the air between them was enough of an answer for Oikawa.

+++

Seventeen-years-old was a good age, for Tooru. 

It was their third-year; Usui-chan had broken up with Iwaizumi at the beginning of it because he spent too much time with Oikawa and she felt neglected. When Tooru had heard it second-hand from Hanamaki during third period, he was on top of the world.

Iwaizumi, however, had taken it hard.

Oikawa knew what dating girls was like; he’d mostly done it to please his mother and feel like that much less of a burden, but whenever they’d broken it off because all he talked about was volleyball or Iwa-chan, he’d never really taken it to heart. It just wasn’t meant to be, he assumed, and tucked away the small part of him that was grateful for the fact.

He hadn’t texted Iwaizumi when he’d heard what happened; as his best friend he thought it was kind of Iwa-chan’s duty to tell him in person, and then he would react accordingly. If there was one thing Oikawa was good at, it was reading other people and corresponding with their emotions (Iwa-chan always seemed to catch on when he was doing this, and often called him out for it, however).

But then Iwaizumi wasn’t at morning practice the next day.

He didn’t catch him at lunch like he normally would, and he didn’t pass notes back and forth with him in sixth hour because he was instead forced to stare at the empty desk in front of him and chew on his pen cap anxiously.

Oikawa decided enough was enough when he’d walked into afternoon practice and Iwaizumi wasn’t already there like he usually was, helping set up the net or talking to some first years. He bid an apology and goodbye to their coach, and before he knew it he’d broken into a steady jog as his eyes tracked their normal route home.

Iwaizumi’s parents weren’t home when Oikawa had knocked (pounded) on their front door, calling for Hajime and pressing his ear to the wood to see if he could hear anything from the other side. There was none, and he cursed, spinning on his heel and half-sprinting towards his neighboring house.

Fishing his key out of his pocket, he swiftly unlocked his front door and slipped inside, kicking off his shoes at the stoop and discarding his jacket as he bolted up the stairs. Heart pounding, Oikawa only had to catch a glimpse of a huddled form through the window one house away before he was sliding his open and feeling the biting wind on his cheeks.

He hadn’t roofhopped to Iwa-chan’s house since they were kids, but all judgment flew out the window—literally—as he slipped out, legs first, and prayed the roof woudn’t give out from under him. 

Iwaizumi’s window was unlocked, thankfully, and Oikawa only had minor struggle trying to lug himself inside, observing Iwaizumi’s back and wondering how the hell he hadn’t heard him knocking hand-sanitizer bottles and Godzilla figurines off his desk in his haste to not fall back.

Tooru leaned against the wall, head spinning as he drew in a few deep breaths to calm his racing pulse. Now that he was focused, he could easily detect the muffled sound of some song playing out from Iwaizumi’s headphones, hear the way he sniffled every few seconds and hunched into himself in a way that was so… not Iwaizumi.

Oikawa’s eyes drew together, gnawing on his lower lip before slowly stepping up next to Hajime’s bedside. His best friend flinched when Oikawa’s fingers brushed through his air, arm instinctively flying out as his eyes snapped open. 

“Hey, hey, it’s me,” Tooru could see it coming, gently grabbing his wrist with his free hand to stop its momentum. “It’s me; not him. You’re alright.” 

He watched with sad eyes as Iwa-chan pushed himself into a sitting position, wiping his nose and glaring up at him. “Why are you here, dumbass? Are you gonna tell me to man up, too?”

Neither of them were expecting the hug, really, but Oikawa held on tight as Iwaizumi drew in a sharp breath, headphones falling out of his ears as they fell back onto the bed he’s had since he was ten. 

And then strong arms were wrapping around him and holding him so tightly Oikawa could barely breathe, but he let his best friend hide his face into the crook of his neck like they were kids again as he pushed his hair back off his forehead and wished all of his pain away.

+++

Oikawa never really thought—he never wanted to think—that he would be standing in the gym for the last time. It wasn’t fair. It  _ wasn’t.  _ They hadn’t even made it to nationals; there was so much he had left to do.

He wouldn’t get to stand against the cold tile as their captain again; he wouldn’t get to buy meat buns with Makki and Mattsun on the way to practice; he wouldn’t get to stay up until four in the morning building pillow forts with Iwa-chan and spend the next day leaning on each other while they tried to catch up on their sleep. He wouldn’t get to do any of it anymore, and it wasn’t  _ fair. _

He smiled as his team rallied around him, gripping each other’s shoulders and grinning up at their captain for the last time. None of them had teased or poked fun at him when he opened his mouth and only tears spilled over; they only seized forward and collected him in a tight, breath-stealing hug.

And then he handed his jersey to Yahaba, ruffling the kid’s hair and grinning lopsidedly through chapped lips and red eyes, an arm around Mattsun and Hajime’s shoulders as the third-years left the gym for the last time.

It was a hard world when he was eighteen.

+++

The walk back to his house was quiet, even with Iwaizumi next to him. There was no arguing, no teasing commentary about Iwa-chan’s love life while he tried to ignore the aching in his chest. And he  _ missed that. _

Their last walk home.

He barely noticed his knees had buckled until he heard Iwaizumi’s shout of alarm and an arm had wrapped around his back, supporting him while he was gently lowered to the curb below him. 

Iwaizumi knelt in front of him, obsidian eyes blown wide in concern as his tan skin reflected the moonlight, and suddenly Oikawa was crying harder because this was  _ his  _ Iwa-chan, and next month they were leaving for universities, separate for the first time in their  _ lives,  _ and he was terrified.

He might’ve mumbled some things while he tried to catch his breath, because strong arms wrapped around him and he hid his face in the crook of Hajime’s neck. Five years of pain spilled out of him, in that moment, clinging onto his best friend like a life raft while he struggled not to sink, bodies highlighted by the glow of the moonlight.

His heart ached, stomach churning and he couldn’t even  _ remember  _ the last time his stomach didn’t twist when Iwaizumi touched him because he  _ knew  _ it didn’t mean anything and that hurt more than any injury he’d ever sustained in his life.

“You know I’m in love with you, right?” He whispered.

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything at first, but his hold never faltered. “No, you’re not.”

_ “Why?”  _ Oikawa pushed, at a loss for better vocabulary. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Iwa-chan. I  _ told  _ you years ago I was in love with you.”

Iwaizumi’s brow was furrowed as he pulled back, bag dropping to the ground at his side. “You’re not in love with me, Oikawa.”

“Yes, I  _ am!”  _ the beginning of some type of anger was pulsing through him, hot and burning like Iwaizumi’s kiss. He scowled, palms digging into the cement below him. “You’re so  _ stupid,  _ Iwa-chan. You don’t even have to return my feelings; I would never expect that in a  _ million _ —” his voice cracked. Shit. “—years, okay?” shuddering breaths cracked the chilly air around them. “But why won’t you just—”

_ “Because I’m unlovable!”  _ Iwaizumi’s voice tore through him like a bullet, echoing around the deserted street from the force of his shout.

Oikawa’s eyes were wide, amber brown dripping with tears as they stared into blinding obsidian. With the way the moon was shining down on him like some sort of avenging angel, Oikawa noticed flecks of blue and gold hidden deep inside. It made his heart hurt.

Forcing a hard swallow, Oikawa slowly pushed to his feet like his best friend had. “Don’t be an idiot.”

_ “I’m  _ the idiot?” Iwaizumi coughed, turning on his heel so he was facing away from his friend and dragging his hands down his face. When he spun around again, Oikawa could see the first tear spill before it was wiped away.  _ “Goddamn,  _ Oikawa! Why the fuck are you—is this some sort of game to you? Leading me on like that? Don’t you  _ understand  _ how—” he swore again, watching with cautious eyes as Oikawa stepped towards him. “You’re annoying, and you’re a piece of shit, and you could never  _ ever  _ be in lo—”

Oikawa cupped his best friend’s face in his hands and pressed their lips together gently.

That was all it was. Just a simple kiss; nothing more than a peck as he drew back, peering up at his Iwa-chan. “I love you, okay?” his voice had dropped to a whisper. He needed it to click, he  _ needed  _ him to understand—it’s real, he’s  _ real.  _ “I’m in love with you.”

“Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi half-sobbed, and for a moment Oikawa thought his knees were going to give out on him as well but then Hajime’s arms were around his waist and  _ God,  _ they were kissing.

They kissed under the moonlight; it was mugs of hot cocoa in rich winter afternoons; it was fireworks and dazzling explosions echoing across the water for miles; it was the sounds of crackling fire—of burning hot ash.

And it was real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh thank you for making it to the end with me!! I really hoped you liked it,, this is one of the rawest fics I've written to be completely honest. any and all comments absolutely make my day and inspire me to keep writing and creating. thank you!


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